


The Incomplete Art of Cartography

by Woldy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:30:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woldy/pseuds/Woldy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three places that are not on the Marauders' Map.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Incomplete Art of Cartography

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magnetic_pole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetic_pole/gifts).



> Written for [](http://magnetic-pole.livejournal.com/profile)[**magnetic_pole**](http://magnetic-pole.livejournal.com/) as part of [](http://hoggywartyxmas.livejournal.com/profile)[**hoggywartyxmas**](http://hoggywartyxmas.livejournal.com/) 2012\. This was one of my all-time favorite assignments and I couldn't have asked for a better recipient, mod, or commenters. The prompt mentioned "buildings, cities, or places", identity, and gender, so I couldn't resist trying to weave them together. Many thanks to my beta, [](http://delphi.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://delphi.livejournal.com/)**delphi**.

"Leave the door open for the unknown, the door in the dark. That's where the most important things come from." Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost

* * * * * * * *

  
[Read it at Hoggywartyxmas](http://hoggywartyxmas.livejournal.com/33877.html) or...

 

The room hasn't changed in sixty years.

This is the place where Minerva first learned about equality for women, back in her first year during the student protest to end gender segregation of classes.

"Who's with me?" Isobel Peartree had cried, fist in the air, and led the march to the Great Hall.

Minerva still remembers the sensation of being a tiny body amid a huge jostling crowd of girls, gaining confidence with every step they took together. After a week in which only nine female students attended any classes, Headmaster Dippet capitulated.

Three years later, Genevieve Bones gathered them here to sign a petition for female prefects. They marched up three flights of stairs to the Headmaster's Office, heads held high and wands in hand, chanting "Give us badges!" and the first female prefects were appointed within a month.

A year after that, Minerva led the charge herself over allowing women to play on House Quidditch teams. That time they were opposed by the male students as well as the staff, but after Minerva's bludger knocked the Gryffindor captain, Davy Burton, off his broom for the fifth time, he stopped arguing with her about it. It took nearly a month and a letter-writing campaign to the National Quidditch Federation before the rules were changed, but Minerva never missed another Gryffindor Quidditch match. A framed copy of the official notice announcing women's eligibility to play still hangs above her desk.

Minerva rarely visits this room now that she's Headmistress, because it seems contrary to the spirit of the place. The room has been a safe space for the disempowered for centuries, and for a hundred years it's been an organising ground for anti-authoritarian protests. You could write a history of the Witches' Movement around this room, from the Suffragettes to campaigns for birth control, equal pay, and women's representation on the Wizengamot.

Still, she can't resist the temptation to drop by every now and then. Minerva has used this room throughout her time at Hogwarts, whether for a chat with Helga and Pomona or to browse through the stacks of feminist pamphlets, notebooks, and journals on the bookshelves.

In the formal Hogwarts records, this room fades in and out of attention; there are decades when it's not mentioned, and other periods when the record-takers note it as being a sanctuary, centre of social activities, or a disorderly space for uppity women. The records don't say whether teachers used the room, but then, for centuries there were very few witches teaching at Hogwarts. Even recently, when female teachers have been in the majority, they aren't necessarily allies. There are many words Minerva would use to describe Dolores Umbridge and Alecto Carrow, but feminist would not be amongst them.

Over the years, Minerva has made a mental note of who is and is not allowed admittance. House-elves and ghosts may enter, provided they are female. Men in disguise may not. In one of her more memorable incidents as Head of Gryffindor, Minerva was called to deal with a male student who used polyjuice in the effort to gain entry and threw a strop when he was unable to cross the threshold. Medical records are confidential and thus none of Minerva's business, but Poppy assures her that there have been several transgender students at Hogwarts and that those who identified as women were able to walk into the room without any problems.

Part of what makes the magic of the room so fascinating is the question it raises about the rest of the castle. Is there a place at Hogwarts only for house-elves? Is there a room for students of colour that is inaccessible to those who are white? When Minerva asked Aurora Sinistra this latter question, Aurora just smiled and said nothing.

Whatever magic powers the Women's Room is fascinating, complex, and frustratingly unfamiliar. Given that the most visible charms are woven in Middle English, Minerva assumes that the room has been here since the founding of the school. Sometimes, in a flight of fancy, she imagines Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff meeting here.

Yes, there's a whole history of this room waiting to be told. Perhaps one day, once she's retired from teaching, Minerva will write it herself.

* * * * * * * *

Horace settles in the wicker chair, pausing to prod the cushions into a more comfortable shape, then lifts his feet onto the ottoman and closes his eyes. This balcony catches the sun, and on a warm day like today, it's his favourite place in the castle. For several minutes he just basks, letting the sunlight sink all the way to his bones.

It's always difficult for a Head of House to relax. Most jobs stop in the evenings, but Hogwarts teachers are at work twenty-four hours a day for ten months a year. He never passes a weekend without being called to deal with a student, or a parent, or a staff meeting, and then there's the marking. Usually, Horace doesn't mind the demands for his time and attention; after all, it's far better to be wanted than ignored. But even the most diligent teacher needs time off.

Eyes still closed, he reaches over the arm of the chair and picks up the box of crystallised pineapple. He slides the first piece into his mouth - just a small piece, a little treat - and the mix of acidity and sweetness spreads across his tongue. The first bite always tastes the best.

Horace was in his second year as Head of Slytherin before he discovered the balcony, and the rest of the world seems to be unaware of its existence. This is the only place he's ever successfully hidden from Albus Dumbledore, and owls are strangely unable to reach him here. Whoever built this balcony protected it with spellwork that Horace isn't sure he could undo, even if he were inclined to. He isn't inclined to.

One thing is certain: this was built by a Slytherin. The most obvious clue is that entry can only be gained through a narrow staircase from the Head of Slytherin's wardrobe, but it's also the sort of place only a Slytherin would design: the perfect combination of pleasure and tactical advantage. From here, Horace can look out across the Hogwarts grounds and lake without being observed. It provides an escape route by broomstick if there is ever trouble - an important consideration, given that his rooms are in the dungeons where a defensive position can easily become a trap. In the absence of trouble, it still offers privacy, the best view in the castle, and full afternoon sun.

Horace takes a second piece from the pineapple box. He must remember to write to Blenheim Stalk and thank him. Perhaps he should issue an invitation for Blenheim to address the Slug Club about his new book on Muggles? No, no, better not. It might be unwise to give the impression of being pro-Muggle these days. Safer just to write.

He chews the pineapple meditatively, trying to ignore the distant yells from the Quidditch pitch.

It's difficult not to worry about Tom and his followers. Horace has been careful to distance himself enough from his one-time protege that he's free of suspicion from the Ministry, but the piercing looks he sometimes gets from Albus suggest that the old coot suspects something. Maybe it's time to retire. But then where would he go? Where else is as safe as Hogwarts?

His fingers fumble in the box, pulling out a larger chunk of pineapple this time.

No, he'll give it one more year at Hogwarts and see how things turn out. With luck, Tom will see the error of his ways and everything will settle down. No sense in bolting too early, burning his bridges and all that. Besides, too much nervousness just attracts attention. If it all goes bad, at least he has a full potions laboratory at his disposal, excellent security charms, young minds to mould, and the ability to hide in plain sight in his own private patch of sunshine. An old man could do worse.

Horace doesn't move from the wicker chair until the sun dips behind the mountains and the last bite of pineapple is gone.

* * * * * * * *

_"Lumos."_

It's quiet. That's what hits Remus every time he comes down here: the absence of voices, birdsong, and the steady thrum of the castle with its sizzling candles and rumbling staircases. Even the library is never silent.

It wouldn't be quiet down here if he told the others about it, of course. Then there would be excited chatter, bickering, jokes, spells, and the inevitable scuffling between Sirius and James. That's why he doesn't tell them.

Well, that's the first reason he doesn't tell them; the reason that he will own up to. Beneath it lurks another motivation that he can't entirely put into words. It's something to do with growing up, with goals and life plans - things only discussed with levity or sarcasm, because they're too intimidating to confront head-on. Even down here, Remus isn't quite brave enough for that.

The tunnel walls glitter slightly in the spell-light, curving up to meet a foot above his head. Underfoot is packed earth, cool and dark. Behind him, the tunnel stretches back nearly fifty paces to the concealed entrance a stone's throw from the Hufflepuff Common Room. In front of him is a brick wall.

Bricks are plainly out of place in a granite castle, making it clear that the original ending to the tunnel was blocked off. Remus has inspected it for gaps, but the bricklayer was meticulous. Nothing in the wall gives a hint about what's on the other side.

Remus sinks to the ground, leaning his back against the wall and his arms on his knees. He takes a deep breath, then another, until the stillness seeps into him.

There are already tunnels on the Marauder's Map. The first leads from the statue of the one-eyed witch to the Honeydukes cellar and is used at least once a week by himself, Peter, Sirius, or (most commonly) James. The second leads from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack and is used only at full moons. If this tunnel was added to the map, it would be number three.

Remus knows that would never be the end of it, though. If he told the others about this tunnel then they'd insist on knowing what was on the other side of the wall. They would bombard it with surveillance spells, or make a hole for Peter to slide through and report back later, claiming to be searching for a secret room or another route to Hogsmeade. His own guess is that there is a simple wine cellar on far side, but he knows Sirius would happily demolish the wall for the sake of alcoholic plunder. None of them would admit it, but the real reason that the brick wall would irritate them so much is that his friends can't tolerate undiscovered secrets.

Map-making is a far less innocent endeavour than it seems. Maps are never neutral representations of the world; they're a way of drawing boundaries between inside and outside, of making things visible or hidden, of asserting authority over terrain. Remus has read enough history to know that cartography is an act of conquest.

Not that Remus is opposed to the map - he isn't. There's a tug to know things inside him too, the same tug that draws him to the library and makes him listen in History of Magic. The map is beautiful and so ambitious that he can barely believe they're pulling it off. Yet as he watched Peter carefully ink new rooms and corridors onto the parchment, Remus felt oddly melancholy. It seems impudent, even hubristic, to strip a millennium-old place like Hogwarts of its secrets.

Remus pulls his wand from his pocket and rolls it absently between his fingers.

Down here, in the quiet, he can think about things. There's something comforting and unpretentious about this tunnel; he feels at home here. Perhaps it's the hodge-podge of stone and brick. Perhaps it's the self-imposed confinement. Perhaps it's the abruptness of the ending, all unfulfilled promise.

He can't help wondering where they'll all be in fifteen years. James talks of becoming a professional Quidditch player. Sirius is headed for the Aurors, an obvious home for someone whose alter ego is an over-enthusiastic guard dog. Peter is a consummate survivor; Remus imagines him quietly climbing the ranks somewhere out of sight.

Remus has no idea who, or where, or what he will be, and the prospect both excites and frightens him. This must be how past centuries of explorers felt looking at a map that read _Here be dragons_. He leans his head back against the stone and wonders if those explorers needed a space to think, too. Somewhere quiet to prepare themselves before setting out on a voyage to the edge of the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I was really moved by the warm reception to this story and would like to thank everyone who commented or recced it. I suffer from sporadic bouts of crippling self-doubt, especially in my non-fannish writing, and will be referring back to the comments on this story when I need a confidence boost :-)


End file.
